


Barbra

by salems_garden



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Drag Queens, Fluff, M/M, i don’t know shit abt drag so, if anything is wrong here just know that, im an absolutely disgraceful gay, this isn’t at all edited so please don’t @ me, wolf is a drag queen don’t @ me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22875718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salems_garden/pseuds/salems_garden
Summary: Just a bit of fluff between drag queen Wolfram and his cute, very supportive husband who absolutely loves embarrassing him.
Relationships: Baldroy/Wolfram Gelzer
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Barbra

**Author's Note:**

> me: haha would u like to name your gift?  
> @raviolionmydick without a second thought: Barbra.  
> Anyways, happy late Valentine’s Day ly bitch

Wolfram can’t at all stop the smile that slips onto his face as he sees Bard across the room, beer bottle pressed blankly in his folded hands atop the table as he stares on to the other with the same dumb love struck look in his eyes as their first kiss. He’s in the middle of the show, clad in thick heels and some blond wig that’s a decent match to his own hair, which has begun to curl out from under the cap he’s been wearing for a good hour now but he doesn’t mind at all despite the ache of his heels and scalp sweating under the heat of the lights.

He’d been doing small drag shows at the local bar for a while now. After having his dearest friend, Agni, introduce him to makeup and the large variety of all things feminine that no one ever cared to express to him sooner than his freshman year of college, he found it to be an extremely fun match and a great confidence boost on the days he needed it. At first it was just a bit of a hobby, would dress up for himself and himself only after hours of studying or going out with friends, taking the time to just admire it all and how fucking  _ hot  _ he looked in some red lipstick and some cheap wig he’d gotten at a party store with excuse for some stupid Halloween costume. Within time and a bit of searching, it finally came to him that people would actually find interest in it all and the new hobby might even get him a bit of cash- with the idea that of course he up his game in terms of wigs so that he didn’t need to rip the damn thing off in the middle of a show to scratch at his actual hair.

He’d yet to meet Bard at the time he’d first begun the small shows, only daring to go up after watching thousands of video routines and his best friend hyping him up- just within a minute of being up on that shitty wooden stage that was perfectly possible of breaking beneath him, he knew he absolutely loved it. Maybe it was the attention, possibly even the money tossed at him, but it those thick ass heels and makeup he felt like a different person, some bad bitch he’d only  _ dreamt of _ before he’d dared to be it.

They met the second summer of university in some poorly air conditioned cafe, both in the midst of working on some humanities research paper they’d both forgotten to finish until the day it was due. After a bit of playful remarks and working together on the assignment they would certainly still fail on, they exchanged numbers and immediately hit it off.

Now, they were together for about five years- married the April of their fourth year together. Wolfram couldn’t put a finger on why he still felt his stomach flutter as he watched the other smile and wave at him from across the way, he’d invited the man to his shows a multitude of times and even had him help prepare his routines on the occasion. He couldn’t even begin to express the amount of times he’d left Bard to decide which outfit he was to wear or whether he’d put on too much blush though the other had utterly no idea on such things and would simply give him a bright smile, followed by a sweetly supportive and appreciated, yet useless, “It looks great as it is!”

The rest of the show went faster than he noticed as he went around back to meet his husband at the small table, not minding to redress in the sweats and t-shirt he’d come in. Giddy as ever, the blond pulled out the cheap metal seat and looked to Bard with bright eyes, chest fluttering as he spoke, “So, you got out of work early tonight?” 

The other nodded and returned the smile as he moved in for a kiss, holding the other still with a gentle hand upon his cheek for the moment until he pulled away, hand only drawing back after a moment of lingering in its place. “Yeah, restaurant was pretty slow all of today so we cleaned up earlier than usual and Seb gave me the rest of the time off. I figured you’d still be here so I stopped by just in case- I actually managed to get the whole show in too!” 

After their regular session of asking how each other’s day went, the topic once again strayed back to Wolfram’s performance. “Glad we didn’t have another heel incident,” Bard teased, snickering at the memory, “I honestly don’t think the doctor would appreciate having to tell you that you  _ probably  _ shouldn’t be wearing heels meant to carry half of your body mass.”

The blond immediately snapped his head down to look at the other with a glare and a poorly concealed laugh, “I can’t even begin to describe how  _ utterly homophobic that is _ . Are you really trying to tell me that I’m  _ not _ at my sexiest when in heels that could make or break some twink.”

“Baby, baby, baby- the only thing breaking here is the heel of those shoes and your ankle along with it.” 

Letting out a playful huff at the remark, he looked back on the two times previous he’d broken his heels and was thankful that the time he’d actually broken his ankle wasn’t on stage but it certainly wasn’t any less dignified. To some a Macy’s dressing room is a fun place to have the back of your shoes snap, leaving you absolutely defenseless as you slide back and hit your head of the plastic chair but to others it’s utter hell as you still hear the echo of your husband’s laughter ringing in your ears. “Oh shut up,” he wheezed, moving forward to steal the bottle from his partner’s hands, “I’d like you to even  _ try _ wearing just kitten heels for a night- I think you’d manage trip in them anyways.” 

“You know what, hand over your shoes right now and we’ll see who’s superior,” Bard dared, reaching down for the straps without any intent other than play. The two argued on for the next hour over the last incident along with the many other embarrassing stories that his husband was far too eager to remind him of, not exactly keen on listening to how he’d gone an entire day not realizing he hadn’t washed off his makeup the night previous or how he’d slipped on the new flooring when getting on stage one night. But what exactly were partners for if not to embarrass you and share their sweet sentiments and kisses later on, after they’ve had their share of crying from laughing too hard?


End file.
